


Butterflies and the Jump Rope

by storiesandthings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Growing Up Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, it hurts but it hurts so good, oikawa is big dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesandthings/pseuds/storiesandthings
Summary: There were once two boys. One searched for beautiful creatures while the other chased broken things. Instead, they found each other.Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 12
Kudos: 122





	Butterflies and the Jump Rope

**Author's Note:**

> Butterfly, jumprope, pancake. Those were the words I started with, and this is the story that came out of it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it.

Oikawa didn’t mean to be a thief. Thieves are scary--big, angry men who break into people’s homes and hurt them. They steal money and rob banks, and they aren’t very nice at all. Oikawa wasn’t like that. He wasn’t trying to do anything wrong when he took the jump rope. He hadn’t even thought about it really, but here he was, one jump rope richer, and a thief.

His initiation into thievery started at the house at the end of the street. Every day the house burst with energy--kids running around, laughing as they played with each other. Oikawa spent most of his time outside near the house but never asked to play with them. He didn’t know how. They were bubbly kids with their sparkly new toys and light-up sneakers. He might only be six, but Oikawa knew he wasn’t bubbly. Oikawa was dusty. Dusty boys and bubbly kids can’t play together, so Oikawa stayed on the other side of the street, watching discreetly as he played under the park trees.

It was one of those days when Oikawa noticed the jump rope. The sun beat down on him, as the summer rays tend to do, so he hid in the shade of the giant maple tree tucked in the corner of the park. The air was slow and sticky on his skin, too hot to do anything but lay there, so Oikawa sat on the ground, playing with the grass as he watched the bubbly kids. They ran around, laughing as they played, but for once, Oikawa’s eyes didn't latch onto them. Instead, he noticed a small bit of black rope, curled up near the road in front of their house.

The other kids didn’t seem to notice it, but Oikawa couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was dirty and frayed, but he could see it was still in one piece. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was something. A toy--the kind of thing Oikawa was never allowed to have.

It wasn’t that day when Oikawa’s plan was born. No, Oikawa watched the rope for more than a week. Whether bright sun shone through the sky or warm summer rain poured down he sat, watching, and the rope sat with him, untouched and unloved. 

He couldn’t pick out when it started, but soon he began to imagine himself walking up and taking it, giving himself a toy of his own. The last thing he wanted to do was steal, but it was almost as if the bubbly kids forgot it existed. As if it became too worn down and dirty and used, and now it wasn’t worth playing with.

One day, the light rain turned into a storm and the kids ran inside, shying away from the thunder and lightning. They abandoned their toys on the ground, ignoring their mother's calls, and fled towards the shelter of the home. Oikawa wasn’t bothered. Storms made his clothes wet, and his shoes always let in water, but there was something almost calming about being outside when everyone else ran for shelter. Freeing. Even under the tree, the rain pounded down above him, dripping on his skin. The electricity in the sky lit up his skin, his mind, his whole body until suddenly, he moved.

He ran at first, crossing the street in a rush, turning his head side to side to watch the street. Surely someone would see him and stop him--that’s what happens to thieves, they get caught. But no one jumped out or screamed his name, so he slowed down, swinging his arms by his side. The moment he stepped out from under the shelter of the tree, the rain poured down a hundred times harder, streaming through his eyes and tearing at his clothes. Maybe no human noticed what he was doing, but the sky certainly did, screaming at him as he stepped in front of the bubbly house.

That was fine. Screaming was nothing new for Oikawa. The sky was much bigger and scarier than anyone that yelled at him before, but he could take it. He would take it, as long as it means he could reach the jump rope.

He only ever saw the jump rope from a distance, but it looked the same up close. One of the handles was gone, leaving a frayed edge, and small rips and stains cover the surface. Still, when he picked it up, it felt sturdy and strong, stable enough for him to play with, so he wound it up tightly, tucking it under his arm. 

From there it was easy. A smile wiggled its way to his face as he straightened. His thick curls dripped water into his eyes, and his clothes hung heavy on his body, but Oikawa felt lighter than air. As he walked back across the street no one called his name or told him to stop. The sky kept screaming down at him, telling him stealing is evil and wrong, but it didn’t matter. He was a dusty boy, stuck on the ground, and the sky couldn’t touch him.

***

Iwaizumi left the house with just his net. Nothing else--he didn’t need it. The afternoon was warm, if only a bit overcast, and his mom sent him outside to play while she cleaned. He didn’t mind--he liked the outside, with its trees and birds and bugs. They were all he needed. He had been on the hunt for a butterfly for over a week now, and he wasn’t about to give up.

It wasn’t just any butterfly that he wanted. The other day he was searching for beetles--the big brown kind with pincers that picked up other bugs--when he saw it. It was small and quiet, barely moving on the plant next to him, but it was beautiful. He watched the vibrant bright blue wings, more entrancing than the sky, and found himself frozen, the beetle long forgotten. It didn’t seem hungry or scared--it just stood on the leaf, slowly flapping its wings. After what could've been hours, but was probably only a few seconds, it flew away, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Seeing it once wasn’t enough for Iwaizumi. He was entranced by beautiful things, and this butterfly was the most stunning he had ever seen. He chased after it, quickly following its flight through the trees, but he had been frozen for too long. It was gone.

Iwaizumi didn’t give up. He couldn’t. How could he forget the butterfly’s grace as it flew through the air or its natural beauty as it stood frozen? More than that, he just didn’t understand. How could something so beautiful live in nature, so close to where he lived? It wasn’t beautiful for any reason--it was beautiful because that’s the way things were. Iwaizumi didn’t understand, and maybe that was what made the butterfly so alluring. 

Every day he left the house with only his net and scanned the neighborhood, searching for the butterfly. Sometimes he’d be out for hours, sweating in the summer heat until he was desperately thirsty, and he’d have to run home, another day lost. He didn’t know what to do--how could he find it when he knew nothing about what it was?

Still, today felt different. As Iwaizumi traipsed through the neighborhood, checking behind trees and bushes, he could smell the rain coming in and smiled. His mother would be upset he was out during a storm, but he couldn’t help it. Other kids were afraid of storms--the thunder and lightning that came with it--but not Iwaizumi. Storms meant magic, and maybe a little bit of magic was all he needed to find the butterfly. 

A light rain began to fall, the droplets littering his skin, but Iwaizumi continued, hoisting the net higher on his shoulder. He found bugs everywhere--beetles and moths, ladybugs, and centipedes. He even found butterflies, but none were the ones he wanted.

As time went by, the rain came down harder and harder, so Iwaizumi moved, taking shelter under a tree as he surveyed the area. To one side of the street there stood a massive house, the brightest and cleanest building for miles, littered with toys and bikes. To the other was an open park, trees lining a massive field.

Iwaizumi gripped his net tighter, excitement coursing through him. If the butterfly was going to be anywhere, it would be here, in this glen of nature and beauty. It would be perfect. Shaking the water from his hair, he stood, getting ready to cross to the park, when he saw him.

The boy was small and moving quickly, running across the street through puddles and mud. It didn’t seem to bother him as he slowed, scanning the street around him. Iwaizumi sunk lower, hoping to avoid his gaze, but the boy’s eyes passed right over him as if he wasn’t even there. So he froze, watching as if he wasn’t.

The boy’s clothes hung off his frame, weighed down by the pouring rain, but he moved with a grace that made it impossible for Iwaizumi to tear his eyes away. So he didn’t. He watched as the boy crossed into the lawn of the big, fancy house, and reached down to the grass, picking up what looked like an old jump rope. He strolled through the yard so casually Iwaizumi would have believed he belonged there if it weren't for the way he turned on his heel, running back towards the park. 

Even from his perch under the tree, the smile on the boy’s face almost blinded Iwaizumi. It was bright--brighter than the lightning that cracked again and again above his head--but then it was gone as quickly as it came. The boy scampered away, the rope tucked tightly under his arm, before disappearing into the trees. As soon as he disappeared, thunder boomed above his head, freeing Iwaizumi from his trance.

He didn’t know what he was doing, his feet moving of their own accord across the street to the park. He didn’t know what he’d say to the boy, or if he vanished the moment he was obscured by the trees. That didn’t stop him. He had to know who the boy was.

Jumping around puddles, Iwaizumi raced across the street, ducking into the trees as he entered the park. Under the canopy of leaves, the rain slowed, his clothes freezing on his body and sending a chill to his bones, but he barely noticed it. All he could feel was his heart racing as he looked down at the boy sitting under the tree.

“You shouldn’t steal, you know. It’s not nice.” 

The words left his mouth before he even knew what he was saying, but it was too late to take them back. The boy looked up, tilting his head to the side at the sound. He looked unsurprised by the comment, but Iwaizumi was sure he hadn’t seen him walk up. Crossing his arms, Iwaizumi held onto his net tightly and waited.

After a moment, the boy nodded. “I know.” 

He added no explanation or reason why, and Iwaizumi didn’t ask. Even then, he knew it didn’t matter. Walking up slowly, he stared down at the boy as he fiddled with the rope in his hands. It was torn and ratty, nothing like the other toys that covered the ground in front of the house.

“Why did you take this toy instead of the others?” The boy looked at him quizzically, and Iwaizumi realized the thought had never crossed his mind. A yard full of toys, and he picked the old one, the broken and used one. As he looked down at the boy, he noticed worn out spots and rips in his shirt, and a hole in his right shoe.

Iwaizumi couldn’t help but guess why he picked that toy. The toy that looked like him.

Instead of responding, he unraveled the rope, spinning it between his fingers before looking back up at Iwaizumi. He narrowed his eyes and stood up, staring Iwaizumi down with more intensity than Iwaizumi thought would be possible from a boy his age. “What are you doing out here? It's storming right now if you didn’t realize.”

A clap of thunder sounded, accentuating his point, but Iwaizumi just shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” 

He had forgotten about the butterfly. It had enraptured him for weeks, but suddenly he couldn’t remember what had been so entrancing about it. The blue was pretty, and the way it moved was nice, but it was nothing compared to the eyes of the beautiful boy in front of him.

***

The boy--Iwaizumi, he called himself--stayed with Oikawa for a while. They sat under the tree in silence, but it didn’t bother Oikawa. He liked the sound of the rain. They barely moved, sitting and staring at the sky until the rain kept going and their shivering got worse. Finally, Iwaizumi stood up, looking down on Oikawa where he sat. “You should go home too. My mom says you get sick if you stay out too long in the rain.”

“Maybe later.” 

The other boy nodded. He didn’t wait for anything else, just turned on his heel and began walking towards the edge of the trees and into the storm. The boy looked to be around his age, with spiky black hair that looked much cooler than his own unruly curls, and he hadn’t seemed to mind the quiet either. That was nice.

Before making it any further he turned to look over his shoulder, staring back to Oikawa.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, before ducking under the trees and into the storm, disappearing in the rain.

Oikawa didn’t believe him. People didn’t stay. Oikawa knew that, and it wasn’t going to change over one flimsy comment from a boy with nothing but a net in his hands. Yet Oikawa couldn’t help himself. He came back the next day, making sure to stay under the same tree Iwaizumi had found him by the day before. It was brighter out today, the storm all but forgotten under the blazing sun. Oikawa held his new jump rope, wondering what to do with it. He had never had a toy before and only knew what to do from what he saw the bubbly kids do. They had each other--always someone to jump and run with--and Oikawa had himself. Still, he was sure he’d manage. He always did.

He played under the tree for hours, jumping with the rope, tying it to branches to make castles and towers, the likes of which he was sure he’d only see in his mind. As he played, he tried not to think about the boy, but he couldn’t forget what he had said. He hadn’t smiled and Oikawa had barely even seen his face move, but there was a kind of honesty in his eyes that Oikawa was unfamiliar with. His other rule--people lie. 

Tomorrow we’ll go shopping, get you some new clothes. It won’t happen again. I promise, this time everything will be better.

People leave and people lie and the sun rises in the morning just as it sets at night. That was the way the world worked.

These facts were universal to Oikawa’s world, so he wasn’t surprised when the boy didn’t come back, even as the bright blue sky began to darken, fading into burnt orange and yellow. He sighed, spinning the jump rope in his hand. It hadn’t been the best toy, but it entertained him for a time. At least it was better than nothing. Oikawa grabbed both ends, tightening them in preparation to jump, when the boy tore through the bushes, into his spot under the tree.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said rubbing his neck almost sheepishly. “Mom made me do chores today, so I couldn’t come back until now.” Oikawa only stared at him, unable to believe what he was seeing. The boy came back. Iwaizumi must have taken the look as disinterest, so he continued hurriedly as if Oikawa would send him away. “I brought this.”

Oikawa looked down, noticing the ball in his hands only as Iwaizumi thrust it towards him like it was on fire. “What’s that for?”

Now it was Iwaizumi’s turn to look confused. “That jump rope isn’t big enough for two people. If we use this we can both play.”

He hadn’t thought he could be surprised further, but Oikawa’s jaw dropped, staring at the ball as Iwaizumi continued. “I started playing volleyball and I want to practice. It’s a team sport, so it’s better to practice with other people. Mom says I can’t join the team until next year, when I’m older, but I wanna play now.”

“I’ve never played volleyball before,” Oikawa said slowly, staring at the ball. He spent most of his time outside, but he had never played a sport before. Sports needed other kids, and he spent his time alone. Or, he had been alone. Until now.

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I’ll show you.”

The sun began to set even lower in the sky, but Iwaizumi tossed him the ball, and they began to play. Neither of them was very good, but Iwaizumi talked to him, explaining the rules and the different positions. Setter, spiker, serves, blocking--they couldn’t do any of it, but Iwaizumi told him everything, excitement clear in his voice. As they talked, they passed the ball back and forth. They messed up a lot, but Oikawa didn’t care. Each new thing he learned filled him up, spinning around in his head. 

Eventually, Iwaizumi grabbed the ball, stopping it in the middle of their sets. “I have to go home now. You should too, it’s getting late.”

Oikawa looked up, noticing the deep shadows cast by the trees around him for the first time since they started. He shook his head and smiled. “I will soon. I’ll see you later, Iwa-chan.”

If the nickname surprised Iwaizumi he didn’t show it, waving goodbye as he clutched the volleyball to his side, tearing through the trees. Oikawa watched him go before holding up his hands. His fingers and arms still tingled, as if the ball was still here with him. He grinned. Volleyball.

Iwaizumi came back every day after that. Every day he brought his volleyball, tossing it up to Oikawa as he walked through the trees. Every day they would play, passing it back between each other. Everyday Iwaizumi would leave, telling Oikawa to do the same, and every day he would shake his head, a smile on his face. 

Sometimes Iwaizumi would bring his net, searching through the trees for bugs and beetles to bring back while Oikawa tossed by himself, setting the ball up above him. He wasn’t very good, but he enjoyed it, the challenge of getting better each day. The jump rope still sat under the tree, coiled tightly on itself, forgotten with the arrival of Iwaizumi. It was still torn and broken, just as it had been when he first took it, but Oikawa didn’t care. The jump rope had brought Iwaizumi, and that meant being a thief was worth it.

One day as Iwaizumi was getting ready to leave, he left the volleyball in Oikawa’s hands. The feeling of the ball in his hands had become so familiar to him he didn’t even realize until Iwaizumi was gone, disappearing past the trees with Oikawa still holding it. As soon as he noticed, he left, dashing after Iwaizumi and into the street. Oikawa didn’t know where Iwaizumi lived, but he could guess since he always showed up from just past the pine tree. He followed that direction until he reached Iwaizumi as he walked down the shadowed street. 

“You left the ball! You forgot to take the ball back with you,” he shouted, sprinting down the street until he stood next to him, grabbing his arm. 

Iwaizumi turned slowly, angling his head. “I know. I did it on purpose.” Silence filled the air between them as he stared into Iwaizumi’s eyes. Iwaizumi shrugged. “You use it more than I do, so you should keep it. As long as you promise not to steal anymore.”

A pounding began in his head as Oikawa stared, mouth open. He thought nothing could surprise him anymore. He knew how the world worked--or he thought he did--before this boy smashed through it all. Swallowing deeply, he nodded.

“Okay, Iwa-chan. I promise.”

Iwaizumi was his first friend. He wasn’t the last, but even then, Oikawa knew he was the only one that mattered.

***

Summer was over almost as soon as it started, and with it, school began. Iwaizumi didn’t want to go to school. He liked spending time outside every day, playing volleyball with Oikawa underneath the big oak tree. It was nice, and there weren’t any other kids around. He didn’t have to sit inside either. But everything had to come to an end, and that summer was no exception, so Iwaizumi found himself sitting under the tree for the last night before school.

“I don’t want to go to school,” Oikawa complained, leaning against Iwaizumi’s back as he tossed the volleyball in the air. They had only known each other for a few weeks, but ever since Iwaizumi gave him that volleyball it was like a dam had broken inside him. He talked for hours, filling their days with comfortable chatter, which Iwaizumi liked. It was nice. Calming.

At first, Iwaizumi was quiet, content to just listen. Gradually he grew more and more comfortable with the other boy, piping in a word here and there until their words flowed together in a constant stream of talking and teasing. Now they were just Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and he could barely remember a time before he knew the other boy. 

“I know. Neither do I.”

They stayed by the tree for a while, silent like the night they first met. It was bright, but Iwaizumi could see clouds moving in. A storm. Fitting for them, he supposed. Finally, it was dark, later than Iwaizumi had ever stayed before when he stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Oikawa nodded as he walked away, and Iwaizumi’s chest tightened. It felt like something was ending, although it wasn’t. From their days spent talking, they learned they’d be going to the same school. They might even be in the same class. They’d still see each other, and spend time together playing volleyball, but Iwaizumi was sure it wouldn’t last. Oikawa was fun and confident, energetic in a way even Iwaizumi couldn’t match. He was sure to find other friends, better friends, and forget about Iwaizumi and their time under the oak tree.

\----------------

The school was crowded, with hundreds of kids all mashed together, filing into the same building. From his spot down the street, they looked like ants, identical as they marched in line, one after the other into the building. Iwaizumi didn’t want to go, but he didn’t want to see the disappointed look in his mom's eyes if he ran back home, or didn’t show up. Taking a deep breath he began to walk before Oikawa’s familiar voice ripped through the monotonous chatter of the other students. 

“Iwa-chan, wait up! Slow down!” He shouted, and Iwaizumi turned. Oikawa raced behind him, weaving in and out of the other kids with his volleyball in hand until he stopped in front of Iwaizumi, chest heaving. He looked just the same as he had during the summer, trading in his t-shirt and shorts for an equally worn school uniform. Still, the smile on his face looked genuine as he straightened up, grinning at Iwaizumi. “You shouldn’t leave your best friend on the first day of school. It’s not nice.”

Iwaizumi froze for a second before nodding. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow I wouldn’t have to leave you behind.”

Oikawa followed him, bantering comfortably as they made their way into the school. Iwaizumi was sure that they looked just like all the other ants, filing forward, but he didn’t care as Oikawa’s words rang through his head. Best friend. He had never had a best friend before and wasn’t sure what it entailed, but he’d figure it out. It was Oikawa after all. 

They ended up in different classes, but it was fine. They still ate lunch together every day and walked back home together when classes came to an end. At first, they only walked to the park, then down the street, then further, until Oikawa ended up walking to Iwaizumi’s house. From there it was routine--meet at the park, walk to school, eat lunch, walk home, play volleyball, and go to bed. 

Sometimes Iwaizumi would invite Oikawa to stay for dinner, but he always froze at the question, saying he needed to go home. Those days Oikawa always left quickly, so Iwaizumi brought it up less and less until he finally asked why. Oikawa just shook his head. “I promised you I wouldn’t be a thief anymore. I can get my own food if I need it.”

He crossed his arms and moved to leave, just as he always did, but Iwaizumi grabbed on, shaking his head. “You're not a thief. It’s what best friends do, they eat together. So you can eat dinner here and you won’t be a thief.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened but he stayed, following Iwaizumi into the house. Iwaizumi was glad, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Oikawa meant by getting his own food. In the time they had known each other, Iwaizumi had never been to his house or seen his parents. He didn’t care about that, but he did care about the hungry way his eyes followed Iwaizumi’s lunch when he forgot his own. Or the way his arms were always dotted with bruises that didn’t hadn’t been there the day before. Or the way he flinched when someone stood quickly out of their desk.

He wanted Oikawa to be okay. He didn’t think he could go back to before when he didn’t have a best friend.

\-------------------

Iwaizumi thought he was the only one who noticed until he was looking for Oikawa at the end of the day. They usually met at the front of the school before they walked home or went to volleyball practice, but today Oikawa was late. He had never been late before. Iwaizumi couldn’t just wait around, his leg bouncing anxiously, so he began looking through the school.

It was pretty empty, only a few club activities happening, so it was quiet until Iwaizumi stumbled onto the locker room. Even from the outside, he could hear voices--Oikawa’s familiar tone and a mix of other, unfamiliar voices. Peering over the corner he saw Oikawa backed against the lockers, with three other kids surrounding him. They looked like a pack of wolves, closing in on their prey as they laughed and sneered, looking down on Oikawa. Iwaizumi had never thought Oikawa to be weak, but he looked small, surrounded by the older boys.

“What’s with your clothes, little bitch,” one of them snarled, and Iwaizumi flinched at the word. “Ever heard of getting something clean? Do you live in a pile of garbage? Is that why you smell so bad? I bet you do, you piece of shit, it’s where you belong.”

“Awwww do mommy and daddy not love you? I’m not surprised. Who could love a dirty little brat like you? No one even wants to be friends with you when you look like that. You’re going to be alone forever, so why don’t you just die.”

The other boys laughed together, but Iwaizumi barely heard them. He could only see the murderous look in Oikawa’s eyes as he clenched his fist, taking a deep breath. Iwaizumi realized they weren’t the wolves closing in on their prey--Oikawa was merely a predator in disguise, and they weren’t ready for him to attack.

Before Oikawa could do anything else, Iwaizumi ran in, shoving one of the older kids. He had grown an inch or two taller than Oikawa over the past few years, and stronger as well, and the older kids could see it. “Back off,” he snarled, before grabbing Oikawa’s hand and pulling him away, out of the locker room.

Behind him the boys started laughing again, getting over Iwaizumi’s abrupt entrance, but he didn’t care. He just wanted Oikawa away, away from them and their stupid words. They were wrong and they didn’t understand anything about Oikawa. 

“What were you doing in the locker room Oikawa? You should’ve just met me at the front like always and--”

“I didn’t need help.” He turned at the sound of Oikawa’s voice and slowed to a stop.

Oikawa’s eyes burned with hatred and intensity that Iwaizumi had never seen before. His mouth was tightened into a harsh line, and Iwaizumi knew he needed to do something. “I wasn’t worried about you, I was worried about what you were going to do to them, you idiot. You’d get suspended if you hurt them, and I’d be stuck eating lunch alone.”

His voice was teasing and light, and it seemed to calm Oikawa, sending him back to his normal state. Slowly he talked about his day, giving Oikawa time to recover, and he did. Eventually, he began to join in, sharing stories about his day and excitement for volleyball practice, but Iwaizumi couldn’t shake the image of the look in Oikawa’s eyes.

Iwaizumi never saw anyone bother Oikawa again, but some days Oikawa would be quieter than usual, his smile smaller and hidden. Iwaizumi hated it. He loved Oikawa’s smile, but he couldn’t do anything. Gradually, Oikawa began to change, becoming louder and harsher all at once. He was still Oikawa--filled with laughter and energy, confidence and smiles--but at school, he was posed. In the days that followed, Iwaizumi watched as his confidence change to arrogance while his smiles turned forced. 

By middle school, no one bothered him anymore, but Iwaizumi couldn’t help feeling like they were the ones who had lost.

***

“Iwa-channnnnnn, hurry up! We’re gonna be late,” Oikawa shouted down the hallway.  
He sat on the counter of Iwaizumi’s kitchen, swinging his legs back and forth while he waited. They were in high school now, both on the volleyball club at the same school. Iwaizumi was so excited when he realized their top choices for school were the same, and Oikawa didn’t have the heart to tell him he just copied Iwaizumi’s list. For him, there was no point going without Iwaizumi. He made school worth it.

Well, him and volleyball, that is. Oikawa held his volleyball in hand, setting it slowly above him as leaned back on the counter. No one had been surprised as they got older and ended up in matching positions, spiker and setter. Iwaizumi’s mother was so used to him being around the house, she said she couldn’t imagine anything else--they were a pair. Oikawa liked that. A pair was incomplete without its other half, and that was the way he was with Iwaizumi. It just wasn’t right if it was any other way.

“I’m ready, jeez. You’re lucky my mom already left for work or she’d kill us for waking her up early,” Iwaizumi grumbled, slinging his bag over his shoulder before shoving Oikawa off the counter. “And don’t sit up there, it’s disrespectful.”

“I’ll have you know your mother already told me she would be out early last night, and welcomed me to let myself in,” Oikawa shot back, ignoring the second part as they left the house, walking to school. 

Every day they went through this routine, and Oikawa enjoyed it. Something was calming about starting a day the same way--Iwaizumi’s house, volleyball, school. He knew what to expect, without having to worry about anything else messing it up. Just him and Iwaizumi.

They began arguing over the proper way to get someone up in the morning, (Iwaizumi said they should knock on the door without coming in, Oikawa thought a body slam would be more effective) when Oikawa’s phone rang. He froze. It never rang, not unless it was Iwaizumi, and he looked just as surprised as Oikawa.

Slowly, he reached into his pocket, picking up the phone. It felt toxic in his hand, a nuclear bomb ticking down the seconds until it exploded. Slowly, he answered, raising the phone to his ear. 

“Tooru?” His father’s slurred voice came over the speaker and he winced, praying it wasn’t loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear. “You need to get me something to drink, your mother must ‘a finished it all, cuz there’s nothin’ left here.”

Oikawa doubted that was true. There was never anything left, and his mom never drank it unless he gave it to her.

“Go get it yourself, I have volleyball practice.”

He pulled the phone away, preparing to turn it off before he heard his father’s smug response. “Fine, I’ll bring your mother with me then. It’d be a shame if we were to get into an accident.”  
Oikawa paused for a moment. “Give me ten minutes.” 

Of course he would hold his mother above him, forcing Oikawa to buy for him. This happened often enough, enough that he knew the convenience store that would sell him his father’s favorite drink, and never asked his age. He spun, about to turn towards the direction of the store when he remembered Iwaizumi.

He stood next to Oikawa, an eyebrow raised at the call. From his expression, he hadn’t heard his father talk, or what was more likely, was pretending he hadn’t. Iwaizumi was like that. He never pressed Oikawa for answers, ever since they met. Instead, he was just always there, as if he knew that was what mattered.

Rubbing his forehead Oikawa sighed. “I have to run an errand for my father, so go on without me.” He began walking quickly in the opposite direction before he felt Iwaizumi at his side, arms swinging next to him. He paused, grabbing Iwaizumi’s arm to make him stop. “You shouldn’t have to be late for practice just because I have something to do.”

“You do everything with me when I need it, I’m not going to leave you alone.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. As if they weren’t fighting for the captain spot and missed practice all the time. Like it was no question what he’d choose.

Oikawa didn’t trust himself to speak, so he only nodded. He was in and out of the store in only a few minutes, walking back towards his house. They passed the park, the big oak tree, and their spot. That had been Oikawa’s home before Iwaizumi. He was safe there, and happy.

Then there was the house he slept in. They slowed in front of it, and Oikawa ducked his head. His house was small, only a few rooms, and it was broken, with shingles falling off in places and peeling paint. It looked sad and empty, and Oikawa grimaced. Darkness radiated off it, turning the air colder and the shadows darker. He knew Iwaizumi was aware his parents weren’t the best, and that he didn’t have that much money, but it wasn’t something he had ever wanted Iwaizumi to see. His home was the park or Iwaizumi’s house, ever since they met. That was what mattered.

“Wait out here,” he muttered, and Iwaizumi nodded as if he understood exactly what Oikawa was thinking. He ran to the front door, ripping it open and climbing his way inside. The front room was dirty, but it didn’t matter much. They never had guests. Who would want to come to this place? He stayed away as much as he could, and he grew up there. 

He peered through the room, the lights dim. His mother had probably forgotten to pay the electricity bill, as she usually did. Whatever. He just wanted to leave, like he had first thing in the morning, while his parents were still passed out on the couch. Walking into the room, he saw them sitting in almost the same place he had left them in the morning. At his footsteps, his dad lifted his head, staring him down.

“You got my drink?” His voice was gruff and low, clearer than it had been earlier, but not enough that he would be moving anytime soon. His head was leaning against the couch while his legs stretched out, but Oikawa’s mother had slipped onto the ground, curled up at his feet. Oikawa’s chest tightened at the sight. Walking over quickly, he dropped the bottle into his father’s waiting hand and turned on his heel. Before he could leave, his dad grabbed on, freezing him in place. 

“Why don’t you ever bring that friend of yours inside to meet your poppa? I’m sure we’d have fun together. Iwaizumi, is it? I think I remember that family before--”

“Don’t you say his name.” Oikawa’s voice was low, and even his father's drunk addled brain could recognize the thinly veiled threat it held, dropping his hand. “Don’t talk about him, ever. He’s not yours to interfere with.”

With that Oikawa left, spinning on his heel to get out of his godforsaken house, but his dad wasn’t done. “That’s what you think boy. He’s yours for now, but he won’t stay. No one ever will!”

Oikawa slammed the door behind him, but it didn’t stop the echo of his father’s laugh from ringing in his ears as he reached Iwaizumi’s side, heading back to school. They walked for a moment in silence, before Iwaizumi grabbed his hand. It was warm, and his hand was strong, built from the years of hitting a volleyball with all the strength he had. He looked at Iwaizumi, almost in shock, and he stared back. 

“I’m here,” he said, squeezing Oikawa’s hand. “Whatever happens, no matter how bad, I’m here.”

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes, so he looked away. “Of course, Iwa-chan, you’re like a pesky bug. You just never leave me alone.”

Iwaizumi reached over, smacking him with his free hand before Oikawa could duck, but he didn’t let go. Oikawa was glad--maybe Iwaizumi could hear the way his voice trembled, or feel his heart beating nearly out of his chest. Even as Iwaizumi talked, filling up the street with mindless chatter, his father’s words repeated, over and over.

He was right, in a way. Iwaizumi was much too good for him, and Oikawa knew he couldn’t last.

***

The smack of the volleyball against his hand stung, but Iwaizumi shook it off, relishing the burn against his skin. Nothing felt better than hitting a spike perfectly and watching it smash to the other side of the court. He turned to Oikawa, who grinned at him. “Perfect, wasn’t it.”

Rolling his eyes, Iwaizumi shrugged. “Could’ve been better.”

He left it at that, ignoring Oikawa’s indignant cries. In reality, the set was perfect. Ever since high school began, Oikawa had improved at an insane rate. His ability to bring out the best in everyone on the team was incredible, and his abilities seemed almost magical if Iwaizumi didn’t know how hard he worked.

Ever since they were late to practice that one morning, Oikawa had thrown himself into volleyball, even more than before. Many days he would wake up to a text telling him Oikawa was already at school, and he’d stay late almost every night. His drive was almost terrifying, but Iwaizumi wasn’t going to stop him. Not yet.

The others were cleaning up, putting the balls away, and taking off their shoes. Makki and Mattsun, two other second years, stood by the door waiting for them. They had been walking home together until recently when Oikawa had started staying late. “You guys coming?” Mattsun asked, raising his eyebrows at Oikawa’s still practicing form.

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Thanks for asking, but I think we’ll stay here a little longer.” 

Mattsun nodded, but Makki paused, narrowing his eyes before walking over to Iwaizumi. “I know he wants to practice, but he needs to be careful. He’s going to be named captain no matter what, there’s no need for him to run himself to the ground.”

“I know,” Iwaizumi said. He did. He wasn’t going to let it happen. “He’ll be okay.”

He shrugged, waving goodbye as he followed Mattsun out the door. Iwaizumi hoped that was true, as he watched Oikawa line up for serve after serve, jumping with all his power. Jump, hit, slam. Jump, hit, slam. Over and over again, he lined up, his expression barely wavering. After half an hour, Iwaizumi walked over as Oikawa stood, spinning the ball in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he lined up his shot, throwing the ball in the air and running up after it, jumping as high as he could before slamming it down. 

Iwaizumi held in a gasp at the motion. He had spent his entire life with Oikawa, but in high school he had kept growing, taller, and taller. His muscular build only increased, strength apparent in every angle of his body. When he landed on the ground he stumbled, almost falling forward, and Iwaizumi ran over, grabbing his arm.

Within seconds, Oikawa was dragging him downwards, only Iwaizumi’s arm keeping him upright. “What happened?”

“My knee,” he said standing up fully, before stepping gingerly, testing out his weight on it. “Nothing to worry about, it’s just been bothering me a bit recently.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes. “You told me you were fine with all the extra practice.”

“And I am fine. This was just a small setback, once I roll out it’ll be fine.” He tugged his arm away and walked over to grab another ball. Iwaizumi grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him backward.

“You’re not fine, you idiot. Come home tonight and ice it, you’re not doing any good by injuring yourself.”

Iwaizumi walked to the net to take down the pads before Oikawa spoke. “It’s not fine.”

He looked up, and Oikawa stared after him. His face was set with the same ferocity he had only seen once before, but now he could see the pain hidden just behind his eyes. “We need to win this season, and we’re not going to be able to do it if I’m not good enough. Don’t you get it? I’m not going to fuck it all up again, Iwa-chan. You should be able to count on me and so should everyone else.” He turned back to the net, watching as the ball rolled slowly on the other side. “If I can’t do this, I can’t do anything.”

Ah. There it was. Iwaizumi wasn’t surprised by the comment. Not really. Oikawa had always been like this. He didn’t want to be anyone else’s burden. It didn’t matter that Iwaizumi had never thought of him that way. Oikawa had been his savior, the only one who wanted to play with the boy the others said was too boring. Too mean. The kind of kid who didn’t give smiles away for free. Oikawa didn’t care about that, and Iwaizumi didn’t care about the kids that thought Oikawa was too arrogant, too full of himself. Yet in Oikawa’s mind, he saw himself as extra weight on everyone's back, and he’d kill himself to make it as light as possible.

“You’re not the only one on the team you know.” 

Oikawa froze, turning back to him, so Iwaizumi continued. “It’s not on you to make us win. You do your best, and so do I, and so does everyone else. This isn’t the kind of game that you can win by yourself, so why don’t you share it with someone else. Do you think I’m not good enough?”

Oikawa shook his head slowly. “That’s not why, I just don’t want to put that much pressure on the rest of you when it’s my responsibility to--”

“It’s not. It’s all of ours, and you're disregarding our hard work by thinking that.”

He didn’t respond or nod. He didn’t acknowledge the statement at all, but he walked to the net, taking down the pads. Iwaizumi followed, taking down the other side, breathing a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that Oikawa wasn’t strong enough to do it--if he pushed himself to carry the team, he could, even as it broke him to pieces.

In the next few days, Iwaizumi made sure Oikawa was okay, watching him closely. He had been sleeping over since they were young, so he didn’t protest when Iwaizumi demanded he stay, just so he could make sure Oikawa took care of himself. Each night he iced his knee, setting his foot up on Iwaizumi’s legs while he played a movie, or worked on homework. He’d lean back, twisting his head upside down to see the screen and laugh every time about how funny it looked with reverse gravity. Iwaizumi loved it, the way he’d turn back, the blood rushing to his face while his hair slowly falling into his eyes as he grinned. 

Oikawa never mentioned if his parents were worried, and Iwaizumi didn’t ask. He could tell that his mom wondered, in the way she sat and watched them laughing in front of the tv late at night when she came home from work, but she never asked either. Maybe she was as used to it as he was, Oikawa in their home as if it was his own.

He couldn’t stop Oikawa from the extra practice. Instead, he just practiced with him. This way Iwaizumi could stop him just before he pushed himself too hard, making sure he ate dinner and did his homework. “You’re my mom,” Oikawa teased at first, and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, smacking him in the chest.

“I wouldn’t have to be if you would just take care of yourself,” he snapped back, but really, he didn’t mind. How could he? He remembered meeting Oikawa for the first time, how late he would stay under that big oak tree. How can you learn to take care of yourself when no one shows you how?

\---------------

Eventually, Oikawa’s knee got better, and Iwaizumi left him to take care of it himself, with strict promises that he wouldn’t overwork himself again. Still, Iwaizumi paid attention, counting the extra hours Oikawa put in, how often he ate, and iced his knees.

If they were going to win the way they both wanted, Oikawa couldn’t be broken. Iwaizumi wouldn’t let that happen.

A few weeks later, Iwaizumi was walking to the club room before practice. Oikawa needed to talk to a teacher about an assignment so he had planned to meet him there. Walking slowly he yawned, turning the corner outside the school before hearing a group of students talking in front of him. Usually, he wouldn’t notice or care, but he heard Oikawa’s name, causing his head to jerk to the side.

“I just don’t get what Oikawa is doing with him. He’s so cute and nice he could be friends with anyone, but he chooses that boring volleyball kid.”

“Yeah, just because they play together doesn’t mean they need to do everything together,” one of the girls complained, running a hand through her hair. “If Iwaizumi were hotter he could have that dark and sexy look going for him, but he’s not. He’s barely average.”

“I knowwww,” the other whined. “Instead he’s just boring. His hair looks weird too.”

The boys in the group had merely been standing with them, but at that they laughed, leaning in together. Iwaizumi stared for a moment, before turning towards the club room again. It didn’t matter to him. They were right, of course. Oikawa was much too good for him. He was annoying and sarcastic and full of himself, but charismatic enough that he could be friends with everyone, have any girl that he wanted. Iwaizumi knew that, but he also knew that for some reason, Oikawa had picked him, and he respected Oikawa enough to accept that decision.

He wasn’t good enough, but at least he was there. That had to mean something.

***

Oikawa was late, running through the hallway and out of the building as soon as he could. One of his teachers had requested a meeting to discuss a late assignment, but Oikawa had merely talked to her, explaining his volleyball situation. Whether choosing to support the volleyball team or tired of hearing Oikawa talk, she let Oikawa leave quickly with a promise that it wouldn't happen again. He told Iwaizumi he’d be late, but he wanted to see him. It had been a day, and Oikawa wanted to tell Iwaizumi about his teacher before lunch. Iwaizumi would probably hit him and tell him it was stupid, but he’d smile too, the way he did out of the corner of his mouth when he thought Oikawa had turned away.

As he made his way outside he saw Iwaizumi frozen, standing before a group of students. He didn’t know why, but something told him to stay back, just out of view, so he did, and he listened. They were talking about him. Well, not just him. Iwaizumi too. As they continued talking, Oikawa watched Iwaizumi turn away, walking towards the club room, but Oikawa couldn’t. Not when it was about Iwaizumi.

He felt his face get red, blood boiling just under his skin, red hot and dangerous. Plastering on his fakest smile, Oikawa walked right up to them, shoving his way into their circle. When they saw who he was, they grimaced, the face of a child caught stealing a cookie before supper. Oikawa’s grin stretched into a snarl. It was much worse than that.

“I heard what you said! Iwa-chan is boring, isn’t he. His jokes are too witty for someone with a pea sized brain, so I get why you wouldn’t understand. You might want to go to the doctor for that one, it can be hard to do anything in your life when you’re that stupid.” Oikawa pouted as if pitying them, but he wasn’t done. Not even close. “While you’re at it, it might be a good idea to go get your eyes checked as well if you think Iwaizumi isn’t attractive. He’s hotter than any of you people could ever be, and they have surgery for things like that these days.”

“Oikawa. Stop it.” Tilting his head to the side, he saw Iwaizumi had walked back over to him, arms crossed as he watched. 

Oikawa said nothing, just leaned his head back, laughing before looking back at the students around him. They all looked shocked, one of the girls turning ghostly pale, but he smirked, allowing a hint of malice into his eyes. “Maybe if you had even an ounce of personality you could be doing something with your life besides talking about people you barely know, but you don’t. Iwaizumi and I are actually good at something, which is more than you all can say, so we’re going to go.” Wiggling his fingers behind him he broke through their circle, walking towards Iwaizumi. “They say as you get older your looks start to match your personality. Good luck with a future of wrinkles and asymmetry, we sure as hell won’t be seeing you there.”

When he reached Iwaizumi, he paused, turning back around. “Oh, and get your facts straight. I’m definitely not nice, especially to idiots like you,” he said, before grabbing Iwaizumi’s hand and walking to the club room.As they made their way closer, they didn’t speak, but Oikawa could feel Iwaizumi’s gaze on him. 

“What?” he sighed, turning to face him as they reached the front of the club room. “You really think I’m going to stand there and listen to them talk about something they know nothing about? No. I refuse. They don’t know anything about you so they shouldn’t try to say something. And don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if they were talking about me.”

“You’re a shitty person, you know that.” Oikawa jerked back at the words, before noting the smile flitting across Iwaizumi’s face. “That wasn’t a nice thing to say, and I’m sure they won’t take it well, especially since it was from you.”

Oikawa shrugged, walking past him to open the door. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, those twigs deserve it.”

Iwaizumi laughed, following him into the room. They set down their bags, but before they could talk to the rest of the team, Iwaizumi punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks. Even if you are an asshole.”

Smiling, Oikawa turned away. “To everyone but you, Iwa-chan.”

\--------------------

They didn’t win nationals. Oikawa was named captain, with Iwaizumi as vice-captain, a fact that surprised no one. It didn’t matter. All the third years wanted was to win before they left, and Oikawa let them down. If volleyball had taught him anything, it was the same thing his father had drilled into his head since he was young. You’re not good enough.

Their season was finished, but Oikawa couldn’t help but return to the gym every day after school practicing. How could he stop? There was only one way to get better, to do enough to finally not let his team down, and that was by working hard. He knew Iwaizumi would be mad at him, especially after the last time he had worked himself this hard, but Oikawa didn’t care. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The top of the net stared down at him as he hit the ball, serve after serve. Higher. Harder. Stronger. Everything he needed to be shouted at him from the other side, and after every mistake it screamed louder, pounding in his ears. That was fine. It drowned out his father’s words and his teammates' disappointment after they lost. 

He would make it better. Everything he could do to help them ran through his head. The sets Makki preferred, when Mattsun could block best, and Iwaizumi… Iwaizumi was always there. He’d get the ball whenever Oikawa tossed it to him, no matter what. He was Oikawa’s rock.

“You told me that you were getting help with math.” Iwaizumi’s voice cut through the silence of the gym, and Oikawa froze. “I should’ve known you’d be coming here instead, but I didn’t think you’d lie to me. The others, maybe, but not to me.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to speak, but he had nothing to say. What justification did he have? Iwaizumi waited, staring at him with those dark, honest eyes, but when nothing came out, he continued.

“We went over this already. I can see the way your leg is shaking from here, and I’m sure you don’t even realize it.” He hadn’t. “You’re killing yourself for something that isn’t all on you, but you know that already.” He did, but he didn’t believe it. “I’m not going to tell you again. I’ve tried saving your ass from this, but if you’re not going to respect me enough to listen, there’s no point.”

He did respect Iwaizumi, more than anyone. He was the only one, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan, I know I shouldn’t--”

“Don’t call me that.” Oikawa closed his mouth, pressing it together in a tight line. Iwaizumi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning back towards the exit. Oikawa hadn’t even heard him come in. “And don’t apologize. You knew what you were doing when you lied to me. Deal with it. Don’t try to twist it with your pretty words and a smile, I won’t hear it. And I’m not gonna stick around when you break yourself apart. It’s not fair to make me watch.”

Oikawa couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Everything that bubbled up over the past few days--the disappointment, the anger, the fear, the self-hatred-- it all burst, leaving him empty. Leaving him with nothing. He could only watch as Iwaizumi walked out the door without turning back. But why wasn’t it fair? Why was it hard for him? Oikawa didn’t understand, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget that look in Iwaizumi’s eyes as he turned, disappointment and anger simmering just below the surface.

\--------------

His knee hurt on the walk back from school, just as Iwaizumi had predicted it would. When he touched it, he could feel it already begin to swell from his constant hours of practice only days after the tournament ended. If Iwaizumi hadn’t walked in, he would’ve kept practicing for hours more, and who knows how his knee would hold up after that. Oikawa didn’t think something as trivial as a knee injury could hurt him--nothing else had before. Oikawa knew pain, the blinding kind that took your breath away or the dull ache that hovered just below the skin. None of it stopped him from playing before, but Iwaizumi was right. This could be it.

Shoving the door open to the house, he shook his head, leaving his shoes by the front. Iwaizumi didn’t want him to apologize, but he didn’t care. Hurting him was the last thing he ever wanted to do, not when Iwaizumi was the one who always looked out for him. He wasn’t going to lose him over this stupid decision, and it didn’t matter how long it took. Iwaizumi would forgive him.

The sound of glass breaking further in the house sent Oikawa moving, any pain from his knee irrelevant against the racing speed of his heart. His father stood in the kitchen, a broken beer bottle in his hand while his mother crouched on the ground, blood dripping down her arm. At his entrance, Oikawa’s father looked up, sneering at him. “What the fuck are you looking at? Go back to school, you’re not supposed to be here.”

That was true. Oikawa never came home until late, staying at the gym or Iwaizumi’s house until he couldn’t help but come back. Now he wished he hadn’t been so selfish, as his mother groaned, holding her face tightly. A bruise was forming, matching the cut on her arm. Oikawa’s breathing slowed. Not again. This was over. This was supposed to be done

“You said you would stop.” Oikawa barely recognized his voice as he spoke, cold and empty. 

Ever since Oikawa grew taller than his father by the end of middle school, his dad had stopped. Stopped with the hitting and the bruises, and the hasty excuses for a twisted arm or ankle. He didn’t stop with the drinking--neither did his mother--but now it was just screaming across the room, angry words before he passed out into the couch. Since then, he had promised to stop, and Oikawa had believed him. He shouldn’t have--that was his first rule.

People lie. Even Oikawa was no exception, so why did he think his father was done?

“I didn’t say shit.” His father walked over, broken bottle in one hand and a drink in the other, before shoving Oikawa in the chest. “Did you think just because you grew big and tall with that stupid volleyball I’d stop giving you shit? Or your mom? She doesn’t give a shit either, as long as she gets her fucking drink.” He shoved him again, his voice turning taunting and cruel as he pressed his face closer to Oikawa’s. “I don’t care how big you get, this is my fucking home, and I’ll do what I want.”

His father leaned back, pouring the liquid down his throat until the bottle was nothing but a weapon. Throwing it to his mother, she raised her hand, desperately trying to catch it, but it smashed to the ground, littering the already disgusting floor with shards of glass. It didn’t matter. Oikawa couldn’t move. He was right--Oikawa had thought he would stop with both of them. Had thought because his life was getting better, his father would change along with it. But no. He was the same man as Oikawa’s childhood, and Oikawa was the same dusty, broken boy he had been, too scared to stand up to him, who’s only talent was running away.

“Maybe I’ll go talk to your little friend next,” he snarled, turning away to kick his mother in the legs. “What do you think, sweetheart? Don’t you want to give your son’s sweet little friend a nice welcome? I’ll give you enough for two weeks if you do.” 

His voice was high and mocking, but his mother hesitated only a moment before nodding to the floor.

His father grinned. It was an ugly thing, filled with malice and mirth, a parody of what it was supposed to be. “You see that? Be a good little boy and call your friend, get him over here. We’ll have a good time together, won’t we sweetheart. We can show them what it means to have fun.”

“No.” His voice was quiet and low enough that his father leaned in, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you mean no? You bring him over here or you and your mother are going to regret it.” His mother’s eyes looked up, pleading, but Oikawa could barely see it. His eyes were filled with the image of Iwaizumi, broken and bleeding at his feet. Instead of Iwaizumi’s familiar face, Oikawa pictured only a broken smile, tears streaming down Iwaizumi’s face before mixing with blood at his feet. Your fault, he seemed to say, his eyes betraying the horror he felt towards Oikawa’s life. Why would you let him get to me?

Oikawa was selfish, foolish, and broken. He wasn’t bubbly, and he never would be, not really. He didn’t know much, but he knew one thing. Iwaizumi was good. He was the sun and the stars and everything in between, and Oikawa would stop at nothing to protect him.

“I won’t do it.”

His voice was stronger now as he straightened, staring down at his father. Somehow in the past few years, he had finally grown taller than him, surpassing his height by several centimeters. That didn’t stop his father from stepping closer, shoving him back into the wall with a strength Oikawa didn’t expect. His head slammed back, cracking against the wall, but Oikawa barely felt it, pushing back onto his feet before his father could move again.

Stepping closer, his father reached out--to punch or grab, Oikawa didn’t know--but he dodged quickly ducking under to move into the kitchen. For years, Oikawa had learned to read his father’s moods and movements, whether the sway in his steps meant extra milk and bread for dinner or a smack in the face. It had helped him in volleyball, to read his opponents and teammates better than they could themselves, and it helped him now as his father’s movements seemed slow and predictable.

Punch. Duck. Smack. Step. Repeat. His father moved closer with every swing, pushing Oikawa back onto the glass that littered the floor, but he ignored it, even as blood soaked through his socks. Below him, his mother scrambled backward, away from them as they fought, but he ignored her too. All that mattered was the hate in his father’s eyes, and the intent Oikawa could read, clear as day. “It doesn’t matter what you do, it’ll never be enough. You could never be good enough coming from this hellhole.”

His words distracted Oikawa for a moment, only enough time for him to tilt back and laugh, an empty sound, void of humor. “You think I don’t know that already? He’s perfect, and I’m related to you, the most useless piece of shit this world has ever seen.”

His father’s eyes narrowed and he swung out a fist, smashing into Oikawa’s face before he could react. Again, Oikawa laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room. He felt free, lighter than air as he danced up and down on his feet. His turn.

Stepping closer he shot a hand out, shoving it into his father’s stomach with a grunt. He hunched over, wheezing before Oikawa pushed him to the ground. He scrambled to get up but Oikawa kicked out, hitting him square in the chest. It seemed to work, so Oikawa did it again and again until he couldn’t distinguish between his father’s cries and his mother’s screams. Or maybe those were his own, fear and horror and anger all vibrating together to create one sound tearing out of his throat.

Eventually, he noticed a tugging on his shirt, dragging him away from his father who laid on the ground, groaning. His mother’s hair was messy, the same curls as his own, frizzy, and broken out of control. Her pupils were blown wide, and she looked at him with desperation. “Do you have anything? Any of it? He said you would bring more for me.”

Oikawa shook his head, barely able to focus on her words as blood rushed to his head. She spat on the ground, then shook her head. “Just go then. You can’t do anything else. Go run to your friend now.” She didn’t thank him or apologize as she crawled over to her husband, hurriedly checking his pockets, but Oikawa didn’t care. He was done.

The house blurred around him as he stumbled outside. A kaleidoscope of colors spun through his vision, but he kept moving, making his way through the street on instinct alone. He didn’t know where he could go. He didn’t really care. It didn’t matter. He had lost the only person that mattered to him because he didn’t know how to trust. His father would never let him back in after this. The school was closed by now, and even if it wasn’t they surely wouldn’t let him enter in his state, to play volleyball or otherwise.

What was his state? By now he could feel pain in his feet, shards of glass digging deeper with each step. His head pounded while his face felt tight, stretched too far across his skull. Broken. A broken body to match a broken boy. His father was a drunk, mean, and worthless, but he knew Oikawa. Knew what mattered to him and what would hurt him. Knew he’d never be worthy of someone like Iwaizumi, no matter how hard he tried to deserve him.

He looked up, laughing as he realized where he was. In front of him were the park, the giant oak tree, and bushes that he spent most of his childhood. It was the place he had first met Iwaizumi. It was also one of the few places left that Oikawa felt safe, so he walked closer, falling to his knees on the ground. Crawling over to the tree he leaned back, using what little strength he had left to stare at the house across from the street.

It was still big and bright. Toys no longer covered the lawn, but new cars filled the driveway. They were still bubbly and he was still dusty, all alone. Slowly his shoulders began to shake as laughter bubbled up in his chest. This time there was nothing but darkness, not even a lonely jump rope to steal. He was alone.

***

Iwaizumi was stupid. He was angry, yes, angrier than he had ever been at Oikawa. They didn’t lie to each other or hide their intentions. They were real, always, and seeing Oikawa in that gym, his body heaving with exhaustion, Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel betrayed. They didn’t do that, not to each other.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to be alone.

He had been angry, storming out before he even gave Oikawa a chance to talk, and that wasn’t fair. Oikawa deserved to at least explain himself and, based on the look on his face when he saw Iwaizumi in the gym, he already regretted it. It wasn’t that Iwaizumi didn’t understand Oikawa’s pain, his disappointment in losing, and sense of responsibility to the team, especially after being named captain. The worst part was that Oikawa left Iwaizumi out of his plans, breaking himself apart with no one there to stop him.

At first, he stayed at home, sitting in his anger as he put dinner together. It didn’t last. Before he even realized where he was going, he slid his shoes and jacket on, walking out the door. Even if he couldn’t be with Oikawa, he couldn’t just sit in this quiet house, alone with his thoughts. On nights like this, where his mom couldn’t come home between shifts, Oikawa always slept over, filling the house with his presence. It didn’t matter if it was just the two of them--Oikawa was more than enough for Iwaizumi to not feel alone. 

Walking wasn’t much better, but it was something, and before he knew it, Iwaizumi stood in front of the park where he had first met Oikawa. A lamp post flickered next to him, dimly lighting the street, but Iwaizumi instantly felt calmer. This place--the tree, the park, the field--reminded him of when they were young and stupid, just two boys who played volleyball together. He snorted. That hadn’t changed, even if Oikawa had gotten increasingly dumber. They were still just two boys, obsessed with that volleyball.

He walked closer, heading for the base of the oak tree. If he went to Oikawa’s house now, asking him to come over already he’d never learn his lesson, so this would have to do. The closest thing to being with him was this place, and that was better than nothing. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with that idea, as Oikawa’s familiar form became clearer under the tree. “You came here too?”

The moment he spoke, Oikawa looked up and whatever Iwaizumi planned on saying next died on his lips. It was just like the day they first met, except everything was off, twisted into something horrific and wrong. The same sad eyes on the beautiful boy, except this time he didn’t have a jump rope. No, this time it was a bruised cheek and shaking hands, blood smeared on the ground, and eyes that could barely stay open. He had no jacket, no shoes, but he attempted a smile at the sight of Iwaizumi, his mouth twisting upwards.

“Of course I did, Iwa-chan.” His voice came out low, ending with a groan, yet he still managed to sound cocky as Iwaizumi rushed over, kneeling beside him.

“What happened,” he said frantically, holding his hands just above Oikawa’s body. He didn’t know where to look, what to touch, how to help. It had been only a few hours since he left the gym, yet somehow he had ended up like this, broken and bleeding on the ground before him.  
Oikawa attempted to smile again, but it came out more like a grimace. “Oh, just tripped walking home. I’ll be fine, just sit here with me for a bit. That should help.”

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi stood up. “Don’t give me that bullshit. We’re not going to sit here and pretend you aren’t covered in blood and more bruises than I can count. You’re coming home now.”

“I don’t think it’s the best idea to walk,” Oikawa said, gesturing to his feet. Now that he was closer, Iwaizumi could see blood soaking his feet and he winced again.

“I’ll just have to carry you then.” Oikawa moved to protest, but Iwaizumi didn’t care. Bending down, he grabbed Oikawa’s hands, bringing them to his shoulders. “Grab onto my back, I’ll hold onto your legs. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re an idiot,” Oikawa grumbled, but he complied, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck. Grabbing the back of Oikawa’s legs he stood, groaning slightly under his breath. The long arms and legs that helped make him such a good volleyball player seemed gangly now, hanging off of Iwaizumi’s slightly shorter frame. He didn’t care. Not when Oikawa was hurting, shoving his head into Iwaizumi’s shoulder to stifle his cries with each step.

Iwaizumi was used to the warmth of Oikawa’s body. They slept in the same bed ever since they were kids, and he always radiated heat under a mountain of blankets. Now he was cold beneath his flimsy shirt, and Iwaizumi gripped him tighter. He could be the warm one if he had to.  
Within fifteen minutes they were back at Iwaizumi’s house. Holding Oikawa up with one hand he shoved up the door, staggering into the living room. 

“You’re a giant, you know that,” he said, before backing into the futon, gingerly setting him down before turning. 

Oikawa merely shrugged. “You’re just mad that I got taller than you.”

“Oh shut up,” he shot back, but his voice contained no anger as he scanned Oikawa’s injuries. A bruise was already forming on his face, one eye swelling slightly. The purple shirt of his school uniform was ripped open, torn in two places, and his undershirt was soaked through. His feet were the worst, blood covering the entire bottom with pieces of glass sticking out.

Iwaizumi felt anger rush through him, growing more and more with each injury. Whoever had done this, whoever had hurt Oikawa was going to pay. He clenched his fists. They would hurt far worse than they had hurt him. Oikawa was strong and cocky and untouchable. At least, he was supposed to be untouchable, yet someone had hurt him like this. That was unforgivable.

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa reached a hand out, gently laying it on Iwaizumi’s wrist. Right. That was for later. For now, he needed to give all his attention to Oikawa, to help him get better.

Walking into the kitchen, he began rummaging through cupboards and drawers before finding a pair of tweezers. He sterilized them quickly, walking back with a bowl of soapy water and a towel in hand. He set the bowl down, sitting cross-legged in front of Oikawa and elevating his feet slightly.

Looking up, he stared into Oikawa’s eyes. Even with his injuries, they were stunning, a golden brown that almost glowed under the light. “Oikawa, this is going to hurt. Probably worse than when you got them, but I’m not going to stop until I get everything out, okay?”

He nodded slowly. Iwaizumi could see the fear plain in his eyes, but there was trust there as well, a confidence that Iwaizumi wasn’t even sure he had in himself. Dipping the rag into the water he began to clean around the cuts, wiping the blood away. Oikawa hissed, clenching his fists on the futon. Freezing, Iwaizumi looked up, but Oikawa waved him on. “I’m sorry, just ignore me. I know you’re going to help.”

Iwaizumi nodded, resuming his task. There were fewer wounds than he had originally thought, only one or two large shards with a few smaller pieces here and there. There had just been so much blood, covering not only his feet but his shirt too. More than could reasonably come from just these wounds.

Without warning, Iwaizumi picked up the tweezers and began gently pulling at the dark brown pieces of glass, starting with the smallest. He worked quickly, dropping them in a napkin and cleaning the cut after removing each one. 

As he worked, Oikawa began to speak, telling him the stories he could never tell, the secrets he had never trusted to share. He talked about his dad, who hit him for as long as Oikawa could remember. He talked about his mom, who loved Oikawa but was so desperate for drugs and drinks some days she could barely remember his face. He talked about old clothes and missed meals, bruises that wouldn’t fade, and a house that wasn’t home. 

Iwaizumi knew some things--how could he not, after the years of knowing each other--but his words filled in the holes, the last pieces to a horrible puzzle Iwaizumi never wanted to see finished. As he spoke, Oikawa’s voice was cold, removed as if he spoke about someone else’s life, until he finished. It was silent, but there was nothing Iwaizumi could think to say. He was angry, so angry at people he had never met, and at the world for shoving Oikawa in such a place, but saying that wouldn’t help anything. All he could do was be there, and maybe that would be enough.

After a few minutes or an hour or sometime in between, he reached the last piece, the largest one stuck in the heel of his left foot. Grabbing it with the tweezers he tugged gently, pulling it out as quickly as he could.

Oikawa let out a shout, louder than before and Iwaizumi stopped what he was doing. Above him, Oikawa looked up to the ceiling, his eyes squeezed shut. Iwaizumi placed a hand on his thigh, waiting a moment for him to look down. “It’s okay to be in pain. That doesn’t mean you’re weak, I know you’re not weak. It’s just me, so don’t worry. Don’t try so hard to hide it.”

“I know,” Oikawa whispered, his glistening eyes fighting the tears that threatened to fall. “I know, I just hate it. I hate being like this in front of you. You deserve a friend who isn’t… who isn’t broken like this.”

Oikawa’s voice cracked, crumbling as the tears broke through. One at first, then another, and another, until they all blended together, falling in waves down his face. He reached up to cover his face, but Iwaizumi stopped him, grabbing his hands before Oikawa could shield himself.  
Pulling his hands closer, Iwaizumi could see the redness of his knuckles, scraped and bruised. 

His long fingers that handled the ball with such care as he set across the court shook in Iwaizumi’s grip. He didn’t know what he was doing, or why, but he lifted the hand to his mouth, kissing the cuts and bruises across his delicate hands. Oikawa gasped, a deep intake of breath, but Iwaizumi continued. Each kiss was a breath, soft and fleeting, but he didn’t stop until he had reached every spot. With the last one, he looked up back to Oikawa’s face. His tears had slowed, redness rimming his eyes as he stared down at Iwaizumi with wide eyes.

“You,” Iwaizumi said, leaning down once more, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand, “are the strongest person I have ever met. In everything you do, you shine brighter than the sun, no matter who it blinds. You are not broken or worthless. You aren’t less, you are more than what I deserve. You are stronger than your parents, you are stronger than your past, you are stronger than anything that happens to you. You are everything.”

Oikawa didn’t speak--couldn’t speak if the tears welling in his eyes once again were any indicator-- so they stared at each other. Watching. Oikawa’s face was more familiar than anyone else’s to him, but at this moment Iwaizumi realized he was also the most beautiful Iwaizumi had ever seen. Oikawa wasn’t just everything, he was everything to Iwaizumi. Everything he could ever want or need and Oikawa was the only one who didn’t realize it wasn’t him who wasn’t good enough. It was Iwaizumi.

\-------------------

They finished cleaning up, wrapping bandages around Oikawa’s feet and hands before icing the bruises covering his head as well as his knee. Despite his protests, Iwaizumi picked Oikawa up again, carrying him onto the bed. No way in hell was he going to let Oikawa hurt himself again. Not yet at least. Iwaizumi was sure Oikawa would do something stupid, but he was going to make that time as far into the future as possible.

Iwaizumi left the room, grabbing a glass of water, and by the time he came back Oikawa’s eyes were closed, curled underneath the blankets. Snorting lightly, he set the glass down before sliding into the bed as quietly as possible. Oikawa sighed as he slid in, pulling the blankets tighter against himself as he moved backward against Oikawa.

Unlike Oikawa, sleep wouldn’t come easily for Iwaizumi as he stared at the ceiling, hugging Oikawa close to his chest. Everything that he had learned and everything that had happened swam through his head, refusing to give his mind a break. For the next few hours, he fell in and out of sleep, until one thought arose in his mind--he could never let anyone hurt Oikawa like this again.

***

The smell of smoke woke Oikawa up, along with a mix of muffled cursing and shouts. He rolled to the side, shoving off the mountain of blankets he had accumulated in the night. That usually happened. Iwaizumi always yelled at him in the morning, but he never stole the blankets back, not once since they had met.

Swinging his feet off the side of the bed, he stepped on the floor gingerly before pain shot through his foot and up his leg. Okay, no walking then. For a moment he hesitated, surveying the room for something to help him walk, but Iwaizumi stumbled into the room before he could decide on anything.

“Here, just let me help you, it’ll be quicker that way,” Iwaizumi said, furrowing his eyebrows before walking over.

Oikawa shook his head. “You realize you can’t just carry me everywhere until my feet are better. That’s completely impractical.”

Reaching his arm out under Oikawa’s shoulder, Iwaizumi lifted him, supporting almost all of his weight on his shoulders. Slowly, Oikawa took a step, finding the pain to be significantly less, and kept going. “Yes, but this will work for now, I have more important concerns right now.”

“What could you possibly have to do, it’s the weekend isn’t it?” Oikawa wasn’t sure. For all he knew, it could be the middle of the week and they were both missing school. That wasn’t much of a concern for Oikawa, but the last thing he’d wish for is to make Iwaizumi miss because of him.

“Just… one second,” Iwaizumi hesitated, dropping Oikawa in a chair before running around the counter to the stove. He grabbed a spatula off of the counter, quickly flipping something before sighing. 

“You know how to cook?”

Iwaizumi turned around in surprise as if he had forgotten Oikawa was even there. He shrugged, grabbing a plate from one of the cupboards. “Not really, if that is any indicator,” he said gesturing to a plate containing several blackened pucks that Oikawa figured was the source of the burning smell he had woken up to. “But Mom used to make pancakes when I was younger, so I thought I could figure it out. Anyways, you deserve something good to eat today, and I woke up early. It was the least I could do.”

Flipping the pancakes onto the plate, he slid it to Oikawa across the counter, before turning back towards the stove. Iwaizumi was one of the most intimidating guys on their team, being the ace, but it was more than that. He was strong and willing to prove it, a fact that gained him the respect of every player on their team, even the most challenging. No matter who they played, he never backed down, and never got scared.

A wide smile broke across Oikawa’s face as he looked down at the plate. That same strong, intimidating guy had used chocolate chips to make a lopsided smiling face on Oikawa’s pancake. Maybe he was terrifying to some, but Oikawa knew him when he was just a kid chasing butterflies. For him, it was different.

A light blush slowly began to replace his smile as he remembered the night before. Iwaizumi treated him differently in a lot of ways. Oikawa looked down at his hands, folding them together quickly. He could still feel the light brush of Iwaizumi’s lips, the way he gave them all the attention in the world as if Oikawa deserved all the attention in the world. The look in his eyes when he spoke was so powerful, strong enough for him to feel it even now, yet Oikawa couldn’t figure out quite what it was.

Oikawa knew their friendship was different. When he was younger, he had explained it to be the long years they’d known each other or the fact that they were each other's first real friends. Now, Oikawa knew better. He’d known for a while now. 

He was in love with his best friend, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

He had known that for a while as well, but right now, they were good. They were perfect, and Oikawa didn’t ever want to ruin that, no matter how much he wanted something more. Nothing could be worse than losing Iwaizumi.

“Sure you’re not poisoning me, Iwa-chan?” He taunted, cutting a piece and holding it up. “Based on that pile of rocks over there these must have something wrong with them.”

“The pan was too hot when I started, that’s all,” Iwaizumi said, pouring the last of the batter onto the pan. “At least I made something, idiot, you should be thankful.”

Oikawa laughed, then fell quiet, focusing on his food. Quietly, he spoke. “I am thankful, by the way. I don’t think I told you that last night, but thanks. For everything.”

Shaking his head, Iwaizumi placed the rest of the pancakes onto another plate, walking over by Oikawa. “I was just joking, I know. And I know you’d do the same for me, so it’s no big deal, right?”

Leaning over, Oikawa smiled, nudging his shoulder before continuing to eat his pancakes. “Right.”

\----------------

For the next week, Oikawa stayed with Iwaizumi. His cuts were still too fresh to walk on for longer than a few minutes, so Iwaizumi brought back his school work for him every day. There was still another week before volleyball started, so Oikawa didn’t care much about missing school. He had no real reason to go anyways. For him, school was just about playing volleyball. Without that, there was no reason to go, as long as he kept his grades up, and that was no problem.

Iwaizumi’s mom returned from her business trip by Monday, but she didn’t ask why Oikawa was staying with them. Honestly, Oikawa wasn’t sure if she even noticed. She left before school and came back after dinner, so as far as she knew they both went to school every day like normal. Years ago she became used to the fact that Iwaizumi never went to Oikawa’s house, and she felt more like family to him than his own.

Schoolwork kept him entertained for a few hours, but he always finished quickly, leaving himself to his devices. It was quiet in the house. That was the first thing he noticed. When Iwaizumi was there, it was always loud, the house full of the sounds of their arguments. He put on the TV, watching as many space documentaries and alien movies as he could, but there were only so many. Hobbling around Iwaizumi’s room, he found an old volleyball to practice with, bouncing it against the wall or setting in place.

It was something, but soon enough his thoughts came creeping back in. Were his parents wondering where he was? Did either of them even care? They hadn’t made an effort to contact him, so he couldn’t tell. He hadn’t either, to be fair. A few days after the fight, Iwaizumi borrowed his mother’s car, driving them back to his house to pick up some of his things. Iwaizumi had insisted on going in first, but he came out quickly holding several bags of Oikawa’s things. 

They were gone. The house was still a mess, clothes, and glass littered everywhere, but no one was inside. Oikawa couldn’t find an explanation for why. Neither of them had proper jobs for years, so he figured they couldn’t be working. No, it looked like they had up and left as if Oikawa had never existed.

That didn’t bother Oikawa. At least, that’s what he told Iwaizumi. He was sure Iwaizumi didn’t believe him, not with the way he could see through Oikawa’s false smiles like it was nothing, but Oikawa didn’t care. Neither of them wanted to acknowledge the truth that was so clear in front of them--they had left for good, and Oikawa hadn’t been important enough to make either of them stay.

***

“Can you jump for me a few more times? My sets are still off, I can feel it,” Oikawa said as Iwaizumi bent down to untie his shoes for practice. Oikawa’s head had healed within another week, and his feet soon after. Iwaizumi thanked the gods for that. It would have been hell to try to convince Oikawa to skip practice, and Iwaizumi had dealt with enough of hell for a lifetime.  
“No, you idiot, I’m going home, and so are you. Practice already ran long, and you should rest your feet until they’re one hundred percent better.” 

Iwaizumi pulled off his shoes, standing up, but Oikawa ran up to him, handing off his arm. “Pleaseeeeeee, Iwa-chan,” he whined. “They don’t even hurt anymore, and I promise it’ll only be for a little bit.”

Sighing, Iwaizumi shrugged him off. “Fine, but you better mean it. Only a little bit and then we’re going home, even if I have to drag you there.”

“Perfect!” Clapping, Oikawa walked towards the net, setting the ball in the air to himself. Iwaizumi bent down to tie his shoe before Makki stood up next to him, holding his shoes in hand.

“You really are whipped, aren’t you?” he said, leaning his head back and laughing. “I’m not surprised, but usually you’ll at least try to hold out longer than that.”

Iwaizumi’s hands stilled on his shoelaces. “What do you mean by that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Makki laughed again. “You’re dating, that means you’re supposed to be a little whipped.”

“Me and Oikawa?”

He looked at Iwaizumi, confused. “Of course, who else would I be talking about?”

“Why do you think we’re together?” Iwaizumi responded, his voice low. 

“I mean, I don’t know,” he hesitated for a moment until Iwaizumi nodded for him to continue. “Well you guys spend all your time together, and you’ve known each other forever and you’re always touching each other.” Furrowing his eyebrows, Makki continued. “You guys never said anything but I thought that was just because it was common knowledge.”

He stood waiting for a response, but Iwaizumi couldn’t give him one. “Okay well, I’ll just be going then.”

He walked away and Iwaizumi stayed frozen, hands limply holding his shoelaces. Dating. Together. People thought that’s what he and Oikawa were. Not just any people either, but his teammates, the people he was closest to at this school. Everything Makki said made sense, Iwaizumi just never realized it. To him, Oikawa was just Oikawa. The person always at his side, the annoying prick that could make him smile even after he failed a math test. The person he wanted to be with all the time, who he trusted and loved and felt more comfortable with than anyone else. The person he wanted to protect and take care of, no matter what.

But dating? Iwaizumi thought about the way his hair fell across his eyes when he would study, and how he’d shake his head to get it out. The way he grew taller, then stronger, his whole body sculpted with muscle from years of training. His eyes, the way they seemed to melt in the sunlight, capturing all of his emotions in one look.

Oikawa was beautiful, the most beautiful person Iwaizumi knew. He had always known that, but it was more just a fact of life, not something he would ever openly acknowledge and admire.  
Iwaizumi had never dated anyone, had never seen the point. Why would he date someone when he had Oikawa? That had always seemed normal to him, but the more he thought of it, the stranger it seemed. He tried to picture dating someone else--telling them about his day, watching movies together, making shitty dinners and laughing together--whatever they wanted as long as they were together. He tried, but the same stupid face kept coming to mind. Oikawa.

Clenching his fists, Iwaizumi bent his head down, breathing in deeply. He loved Oikawa. Of course he did, that was no surprise. But was Iwaizumi in love with him?

“You said you wanted to get out of here, yet you’re the one wasting all this time staring into wonderland.” Oikawa’s voice was closer than he expected and he jerked his head back. Raising an eyebrow at the movement, Oikawa dropped a ball at his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Iwaizumi muttered quickly, tying his shoes as fast as possible. “Let’s finish this up and go home.”

\--------------

Iwaizumi couldn’t sleep. Again. They slept on the same bed, as always, but this time everything felt different. Iwaizumi was more aware of Oikawa than he had ever been as he lay stiff next to him. Oikawa’s body had always been a reassuring comfort, but tonight he felt like a bonfire, burning him with every touch. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Oikawa grumbled, and Iwaizumi’s eyes flew open. His breathing had evened out a few minutes ago, so Iwaizumi had assumed he had fallen asleep. That was a mistake. “There’s no way you’re going to be able to sleep like that.”

Climbing out of bed he stood, stretching his arms.“Some of the team thought you and me were dating.” Could Oikawa hear the fear in his voice as he spoke? The slight shake and the tightness he just couldn’t get rid of?

Oikawa was quiet for a moment, sitting up in the bed to look at him. “So? Is there something wrong with that?”

Iwaizumi was honest to a fault. When he was younger, he would always get in trouble for staying out too late. His mom rarely noticed, but he always told her anyway when he returned home. Iwaizumi hated lying, and liars even more. To him, it just made life more confusing, and Iwaizumi liked to understand how his world worked. That meant making it as simple as possible, and staying honest helped him with that.

Not that it was easy. Now more than ever, Iwaizumi wished to be a liar. Someone who could spin up some pretty nicety and wish away anything bad that could happen. But he couldn’t. Lying here next to Oikawa, nothing between them but a blanket in the darkness, he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He had to leap, no matter how hard it hurt on the way down.

“Oikawa, I,” his voice caught in his throat, and he coughed, pausing for a moment before looking Oikawa straight in the eyes. “I think I’m in love with you.”

They stared at each other, green eyes to brown, motionless. Iwaizumi could barely breathe. There wasn’t enough air to take in and if his lungs wouldn’t work, closing upon him quickly, quickly, quickly, while his heart stopped because Oikawa wasn’t going to respond, he was going to hate him and everything would be gone and-- “Come here.”

Oikawa spoke slowly, a soft smile on his face. Iwaizumi’s legs moved of their own accord, walking until he sat down next to him, mere inches apart. Slowly, Oikawa laid a hand on top of Iwaizumi’s, lacing their fingers together. He leaned forward until his face was all Iwaizumi could see. “Iwaizumi Hajime, I know I’m in love with you.”

He moved slowly, as if not to frighten Iwaizumi away until their lips were only an inch apart. There was no point in waiting, just as there was no point in thinking Iwaizumi could possibly be scared away. Iwaizumi leaned in, closing the distance between until their lips finally touched.

Iwaizumi didn’t know what he had been doing, how he could have been living life before this moment, Oikawa’s soft lips moving against him. He didn’t know anything, but he didn’t need to, not anymore. All that mattered was the heat of Oikawa’s skin under his hands, the curve of his mouth as he smiled against Iwaizumi. The racing of his heart intensified as he breathed Oikawa in, the taste as new and exciting as it was familiar. Here was everything he had ever wanted and ever thought he needed and he knew he would die right here in Oikawa’s arms before he ever had enough.

Pulling away, Oikawa looked at him, grinning wider than Iwaizumi had seen in weeks. “Have you decided? Do you still think you love me?”

Shoving him backward, Iwaizumi moved under the blankets, covering his blushing face and bright red ears. “You suck, Shittykawa, you know that.”

“But you love me, right?” Oikawa pulled up the blankets over his head, shifting down until he was lying next to Iwaizumi.

Leaning in, Iwaizumi kissed him again, soft and quick. He could still feel fluttering, butterflies racing through his chest at the act. It never seemed to stop or lessen with each kiss, but Iwaizumi kept trying until his chest was so full he felt like it would burst. Finally, he lay comfortably next to Oikawa, his head resting on Iwaizumi’s chest with their legs intertwined. “Yes, I love you, you stupid boy.”

\----------------

Almost all of their time was already spent together, but after that night it was practically constant. As Oikawa had pointed out later, it was a fair assumption of Makki to make, considering how they acted around each other. Not much changed once they started dating. Volleyball was the same--if anything they had gotten better, their movements more in sync with each other--and they still made fun of each other relentlessly. It was perfect, everything Iwaizumi had been dreaming of without even realizing it.

They had chosen the same university, a smaller one in Tokyo, and had already decided to move into an apartment together. Iwaizumi was sure Oikawa had gotten an offer from a better team, but he had insisted he was choosing it based on the program, not because Iwaizumi wasn’t invited to the other club. Honestly, Iwaizumi wasn’t mad about it. He couldn’t imagine a team without Oikawa on it, or a world where they didn’t see each other every day. It just wouldn’t be right.

Ever since Oikawa’s feet had healed completely, they had started going on walks around the neighborhood. They liked going out at night, or at least Oikawa did. He liked to look at the stars, pointing out the constellations and planets as they walked, and Iwaizumi liked the way he smiled and the excitement in his voice as he talked.

One night Oikawa led the way, walking to the one place they never visited. He stopped, staring at the field and the oak tree that had somehow grown taller since they were last there. Iwaizumi remembered that night, the way Oikawa had been broken and bloody on the ground. He had never known real fear before that night when he didn’t know how badly Oikawa was hurt, or if he would get better.

Oikawa squeezed his hand, pulling Iwaizumi closer. “You saved me, you know. Not just that night, but all those years ago, when we met. I never would have lasted this long if it wasn’t for you.”

Tears pricked in the corner of Iwaizumi’s eyes as he thought about it, a world without Oikawa in it, but he couldn’t see it. There was nothing there for him, just as there had been nothing when he was a kid, all on his own. Pressing a kiss onto his forehead, he hugged Oikawa tightly. “You weren’t the only one Oikawa. You saved me too.”

***

There were once two boys. One searched for beautiful creatures while the other chased broken things. Each was desperate to find something--a jump rope, a butterfly--anything to end their longing. Instead, they stumbled upon a wise oak tree who introduced them to each other. The jump rope broke, and the butterfly disappeared, but it didn’t matter. They found something beautiful, and they found something broken. They found each other, and that was good enough for them.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment with your thoughts, I love reading them! They definitely help me get better, which I'm sure I could use, so I'd appreciate the help :) have a great day!


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